


Sleeping With A Friend

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Multiple Pov, Pre-Slash, Sick Judith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Daryl and Rick accidentally fell asleep together and the one time they did it on purpose</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Impromptu Camping Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this has nothing to do with my other TWD stories, mostly because I wanna try writing something closer to canon, so just a heads up.
> 
> Anyway, I've had this idea for a while, kept putting it off until I caught up with the show, finally just said 'screw it' and here's something new for y'all to enjoy. Also, I don't exactly know what the tags will be just yet, so if some suddenly appear or disappear that's the reason.
> 
> So, thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you get the chance, and see you in the next chapter.

The buck is smaller than Daryl would have liked, but the group has been going on three days without food, so beggars really can't be choosers. He lines up the shot, finger on the trigger of his bow, but before he can squeeze it someone sneezes in his ear, startling the deer, and it takes off into the woods. Daryl lowers his bow, turning sharp, blue eyes on his hunting companion, and Rick mutters, "Sorry."

"Should send yer ass back," Daryl grunts stalking away from Rick. "Gonna scare all the game 'fore I can catch anything." He hears the ex-lawman chase after him, silently cursing himself for even agreeing to bring the man with him. Some men are born to hunt,  but Rick Grimes is not one of them. It's the exact reason Daryl stopped trying to teach the other man; some people are better off untaught.

"It's better if we stick together," Rick replies quietly. "We've barely avoided two hordes over the past few days..."

"I know, I ain't stupid," the archer barks keeping his back to the ex-lawman. "Still I'da had better luck with Maggie or Hershel."

Rick sighs and softly says, "I know."

Daryl, for the life of him, doesn't like hearing the other man sound so dejected. So, he turns and states, "Look, yer tryin', that's more'n a lot of people can say. Just, just try to be a bit quieter, a'right" Rick nods and the two men fall silent, continuing deeper into the woods.

Daryl manages to pick up the buck's trail again, following it north east. It's leading them farther away from camp than he had originally planned, and he's not sure he and Rick will make it back before dusk, but with any luck they'll find a shack to hole up in until morning. If not, he's sure he can rig up a couple traps around their campsite so they'll be alerted to any surprise attacks. Plus, Rick may be hopeless when it comes to tracking or hunting, but he's still got a good set of eyes. Both he and Daryl can keep watch if they're forced to sleep outside.

A deep orange has settled over the horizon by the time they catch up to the buck. Daryl lines up the shot, very much aware of Rick lingering a half dozen inches away from him, but his shot goes wide when hands suddenly grab him, pulling him into some bushes.

"What the hell..." he hisses but Rick shuts the hunter up by jerking his head towards the left. A walker stumbles out from behind a tree, ambling towards the buck, and Daryl can't help rolling his eyes. This is the third time this has happened, and he's getting tired of putting forth all this effort just so a geek can steal his game. "Fucking walkers," he grunts shaking his head.

They watch as the walker lunges at the buck. The deer scrambles backwards, sprinting off into the woods, and Daryl puts an arrow into the back of the walker's head before it can chase after the buck. He waits an extra thirty seconds, making sure there isn't another lingering around, before shoving himself to his feet and moving forward to collect his arrows.

"Gonna get dark soon," he comments using his shirt to wipe off the biter's blood. "Gonna havta set up camp somewhere."

"Yeah," Rick agrees running a hand through his hair. "Let's try'n get a little closer to the others before we do, okay?"

"A'right."

It's another thirty minutes before they stop again, the sun rapidly setting, and Daryl takes a few moments to rig up some half-assed snares while Rick starts a fire. The sun has long since set when the two men finally sit down by the fire. Rick pokes at the flames with a stick, a brooding look crossing his face, and Daryl knows it has something to do with Lori. Rick and his wife haven't exactly been on speaking terms for the past week, and the only reason he knows anything about it is because he overheard Carol and Beth talking about it, but it's not any of Daryl's business.

It still doesn't stop him from trying to lighten the mood. "Wish we had some marshmallows," Daryl says leaning back on his palms, looking up at the sky.

"Would kill for some chocolate and graham crackers, too," Rick murmurs, a smile in his voice. "First time Carl ever made a s'more, he dropped the entire stick in the fire."

"Merle used to burn 'em then he'd steal mine." It's probably one of only a handful of good memories Daryl has of his brother. Sometimes he's not even sure he wants to find Merle.

The two men fall silent again, Rick using his stick to poke the fire while Daryl watches the flames dance. He remembers when he had been a child, probably six or seven, he'd pretend the flames were people, moving to their own music, and sometimes he wished he could join them. It wouldn't be so bad to join them right now either.

He's not exactly sure when he falls asleep, but the next thing he knows there's a bird chirping above him and a heavy, warm weight leaning against his side. Daryl peels his eyes open, shielding them against the newly risen sun, blinking twice to clear his vision. Slowly, he turns his head, finding Rick asleep, the other man's head on the archer's shoulder, his body practically on top of the hunter.

Daryl elbows the ex-lawman, and Rick stirs, opening his eyes, stiffening when he realizes what he's doing. He sits up, wiping drool off his face, and mutters, "Sorry."

"'s fine," Daryl replies getting to his feet, kicking dirt over the remaining embers from their fire. "Should head back."

"Yeah." Rick stands, stretching, scanning the area. "Surprised we weren't attacked."

Daryl doesn't answer, deciding to check his snares instead, and he finds a couple rabbits. It's better than nothing, so he collects the animals and carries them back to Rick, holding them up. He offers Daryl and smile and says, "Rabbit stew." The hunter grunts, and the two men start back towards camp, neither one mentioning what had happened, and, truthfully, Daryl prefers it that way.


	2. If Wishes Were Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know Lori all that well, but I tried to write her POV. Sorry if it is a little... meh.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to j.bro for commenting last chapter, and thanks to everyone who kudo'd or bookmarked last chapter. You are amazing.
> 
> So, thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you have the time, and I don't own anyone.
> 
> P.S. The chapter title is from the Jon Butcher song 'Wishes'

The prison is moldy in most places, smells like stagnant water in others, and the ceiling leaks sometimes, but it's shelter so Lori isn't going to complain about it. She's just left Carl's cell, having put her son to bed. Despite the amount of times he's told her he no longer needs her to tuck him in, he's still her baby and she'll put him to bed well into his fifties if she has to; him and her unborn child. Instinctually, she wraps her arms around her torso, cradling her protruding stomach. The baby has been more active than usual these past few days, proving that he or she is strong in spite of the fact that it'd been conceived in this horrible world.

She returns to hers and Rick's cell, but her husband isn't there. Recently they've been on better terms, but they're still far from where they used to be. He's more distant than even Lori remembers, and she's not making matters any better by trying to give him space. She knows they're going to have to talk about what's going on between them eventually, but it still doesn't stop her from thinking that maybe some things are just too broken to try and fix.

She runs a hand through her hair, backing out of the cell, and heads towards the kitchen. Carol greets her with a smile when she enters, returning to the shirt she's mending, and Lori sits across from her, putting her arms on the table and watching the other woman work. Carol is by far stronger than anyone Lori's ever met, taking each tragedy she's dealt in stride and coming out on top every time. Lori wonders how she does it.

"Would you like some tea?" Carol asks curiously without looking up from her task, her hands easily manipulating the needle to do exactly what she wants it to do, and Lori knows skill like that takes years of practice and patience.

"I'll make it," the younger woman replies struggling to her get to her feet. She walks towards the electric kettle, hating how it made her tea taste but knowing they didn't have a lot of choices since the outbreak. She knows the moment the generator runs out of gas, something that's becoming a real possibility the longer they stick around this place, they won't have easy access to hot water. So, the entire group has decided to use electricity sparingly. Not that two cups of tea would use too much of their limited power, but it's still something to think about.

When she's finished making tea, she carries both mugs back towards the table, placing one in front of Carol before retaking her seat. The two women sit in silence for a brief moment before Carol says, "I saw Rick heading towards the guard tower earlier."

"What?" Lori looks up from her cup, giving Carol a questioning look.

The older woman glances up, giving Lori a kind yet sad smile, and repeats, "I saw Rick heading towards the guard tower. Just in case you were looking for him." She returns her gaze to her sewing, not seeming perturbed when Lori excuses herself, leaving her untouched tea sitting on the table.

She's not even sure why she's heading towards the guard tower. When they weren't fighting, her and Rick were oddly formal towards each other, and the last thing Lori wants is more forced smiles and carefully worded conversations. She just wants her husband back; for things to go back to normal; for nothing to have changed.

_If wishes were_   _horses then dreamers would ride,_ she thinks remembering that old Jon Butcher song she and Rick danced to at their senior prom. She hasn't thought of the song in years, but she has to admit that line applies to everyones' current situation; not just hers and Rick's.

There are four guard towers surrounding the prison, but they only have access to the one (two are dangerously close to collapsing, and the third is blocked off and unable to be entered). Rumor around the prison is Maggie and Glenn use the guard tower for more than just watch, something Lori doesn't fault them for; it's the end of the world. They need to embrace happiness when it comes their way.

As Lori heads up the stairs, she silently curses herself for not grabbing her tea. She could have offered it to Rick in lieu of an explanation as to why she's here; a peace offering and invitation to talk if he wants to, but she hadn't been thinking about it at the time. It's too late to go back now, so she lets it go and continues onward. She pushes the door open, intending to answer the expected 'is something wrong' but the words never come; instead she finds her husband and Daryl sitting against the wall, pressed close to each other, asleep.

A part of Lori is bothered by the fact that her husband would rather be here, with Daryl Dixon, than with her, but another part of her understands. Sometimes he needs someone who isn't his wife, and Daryl has been there for Rick these past few months; especially after Shane. She gets it, truly she does, so she doesn't wake them up; doesn't do anything except back out of the guard shack and silently close the door behind her.

She's sure he'll find her later.


	3. The Hive Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I tried Glenn's POV this time around. I'm thinking about doing Carol's or Maggie's next chapter, but we'll see how this one goes first.
> 
> So, thanks to those of you who kudo'd or commented last chapter (and j.bro of course I mentioned you last chapter, you're awesome and deserved the shout out), thanks for reading, and leave me a comment if you get the chance.
> 
> Bye!!

Glenn will never get used to the hordes. He sits on the window sill in an upstairs room, watching as a group of walkers stumble past the house they're holed up in. For a brief moment, Glenn wonders if they have a hive mind. They're all heading in the same direction, looking for their next prey. A never ending chain of consuming and stumbling on, consuming and stumbling on, without a thought of their own. Essentially one could argue that the walkers  _did_ share the same brain. And, hell, maybe that's what's going on, space aliens or mass possession; who's to say either of those theories is wrong?

"They gone yet?" a voice says from behind Glenn, startling him, and he turns his head to see Daryl lingering in the doorway.

"Almost," he replies turning back to the window. "Where do you think they're headed?"

"Who cares," Daryl mutters crossing the room to look over his shoulder. "They're just deadmeat on legs."

"I guess." Glenn presses his forehead to the glass, closing his eyes. "But they were people, before all this. Doesn't that count for something?"

Daryl is quiet for nearly a minute, but finally he says, "Rick says we're leaving as soon as they pass." Glenn listens to the hunter's retreating footsteps, not sure how he feels about the fact that Daryl didn't answer his question. 

Glenn opens his eyes, wishing Maggie were here, but she's back at the prison with the others. He, Daryl, and Rick weren't even supposed to go on this run today, it had been scheduled for next week, but Rick didn't want to be cooped up in the prison anymore, not since Lori, and Daryl hasn't let the ex-lawman out of his sight, so the group decided to move up their run.

Carol had been the one to suggest Glenn go with them, as backup, but he's starting to think he's only there to keep Rick from hurting Daryl. He's not sure what he can do, short of knocking the man out, but Glenn's going to try his hardest to keep anyone from getting hurt. Not that he needed to be there to begin with; Daryl seems to be the only one who can really get through to Rick. If anyone is going to need backup it's going to be Glenn.

He sits in the window for a long while afterward, watching as the last walker disappears around the corner, before getting to his feet. He stretches, having been bunched up for the better part of an hour, hearing bones and joints pop back into place. He's not sure when he had gotten so old, remembering a time before the outbreak when he could literally pass out anywhere and wake up with minimal pain. The end of the world has aged all of them.

Glenn carefully maneuvers down the stairs, pulling his rifle over his shoulder, expecting to find Rick and Daryl waiting for him, but he's surprised to find the foyer empty. Eyebrows furrowed, Glenn steps off the last stair and heads towards the living room, stopping short of the entryway.

Glenn's never questioned the bond that has formed between Rick and Daryl. After the outbreak, many unlikely friendships had been made, many unlikely couples, that nothing surprised him anymore. He knows the two men share something, they're about as close as brothers, if not closer, and it'd become rare to see one without the other. But this, right here, is new. Or, at the very least, new to Glenn.

Daryl's body is pressed into the arm of the couch, his left elbow bent, his palm propping up his head, not seeming to care that Rick's feet are pressing into his leg, the ex-lawman taking up most of the couch. They're both asleep, or appear to be asleep, neither reacting to Glenn's presence. He debates whether or not to wake them, but he thinks better of it, knowing both need some sleep ( _everyone_ in their group needs sleep). So, he slowly backs out of the room, taking a seat on the bottom step.

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and decides he'll give them a few more minutes before waking them.


	4. Luckiest Little Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually, kinda, sorta like this one. At least, I like the ending. Sorta. Maybe. Enjoy.
> 
> Thanks to those who left me comments, to those who kudo'd, and to those who are following this story. I know it's all mushy and there's no smut (and there won't be) and I'm probably messing up these characters somehow, but thanks for putting up with me anyway.
> 
> So, yeah, thanks for reading.

Before the outbreak, if someone got sick they could easily visit a doctor, get a prescription, and be alright within a week or two. Antibiotics weren't hard to come by, cold medication could be bought over the counter, and while prolonged exposure to daytime television may drive you crazy, at least it kept you company as you tried to kick whatever you had, but times have changed. Now, the group is lucky if someone finds generic aspirin hiding in a medicine cabinet, and the only cure for an illness is prayer, time, and how strong the infected's immune system happens to be. It's enough to put the entire group on edge; especially if they have to put a bullet through one of their friends' heads. But for all the things they've anticipated, all the lives that could end in a heartbeat, the group is still not prepared for Judith getting sick.

It starts with the sniffles and some fussing. She's been cutting teeth, so the group doesn't think much of it. Rick, Hershel, and Carol have raised infants, they know how babies can be, so they try to keep her as comfortable as possible with what they have. It doesn't stop Daryl from hovering like a worried mother, but there's not much anyone can do about it. That is, until the sniffles turns into a rattling cough and full blown sobbing, accompanied by a fluctuating fever.

Hershel thinks she has the flu, but even the most harmless case can get worse without treatment. Rick, who hasn't left the prison much since Lori's death, decides to go into town to search for any medication, and Daryl, to no one's surprise, volunteers to go with him. Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne agree to go too, and Carol promises Rick that she'll stay with Judith the entire time he's gone.

She can tell he doesn't want to leave Judith's side, and she understands perfectly what's going through his mind. When Sophia first went missing, she didn't want to leave the highway just in case her daughter returned, but at the same time she wanted to go out and search for her. Carol had been willing to do whatever she had to- to find her daughter alive. And in the end, it had been useless. Sophia had probably been one of _them_  the entire time they searched for her, and sometimes she still can't believe her daughter is gone. So, she gets it, understands that Rick is willing to do whatever he has to- to make sure Judith gets better. Even if it means leaving her briefly in hopes of finding something, _anything_  to give her.

It's Daryl that intrigues her. She's not surprised he's willing to help Judith, he had been the one to go into town to get her formula, and, before Judith, he would have gone to the ends of the earth to find Sophia. The hunter may have a tough, hard to crack exterior, but even he had weaknesses, and a big one is kids. Carol had noticed this fairly quickly, and she knows it has something to do with his childhood. It also doesn't hurt that Judith is _Rick's_ daughter, one of the few people the archer actually gives a damn about, and Daryl has proven time and again that he's willing to do anything for the people he cares for; especially Rick Grimes.

Their relationship is one of those Carol is glad to have experienced firsthand. While she had been Daryl's first friend, the first person who reached out and showed him he isn't alone, Rick seemed to wriggle his way into the archer's life almost effortlessly. Their bond is hard to describe, but it's there; everyone has seen it. Maggie says they're like brothers, Glenn says their closer than that, and Beth finds their relationship cute. Carol agrees with them all, but she sees them almost as platonic life partners in a way, and Hershel seems to agree with her. Michonne, on the other hand, disagrees, but she has yet to elaborate on why.

It's interesting what the end of the world reveals about people.

* * *

Daryl manages to find some Children's Tylenol at the grocery store. It seems to help, Judith's color looks better and her fever has stayed below 100 for the better part of the day. Neither Rick nor Daryl have left her side, both having been camped out in her cell since they returned, and Carl has checked in on Judith every half an hour, making sure his sister is going to be okay. It's a bullet they've dodged; one everyone knows won't be the last.

It's around dusk when Carol seeks out Daryl and Rick, needing them to eat something, but when she walks into Judith's cell she finds them both asleep, leaning against each other. The baby is sitting between them, wide awake, playing with the stuffed elephant Daryl had given her. She smiles when she sees Carol, showing the three teeth she had recently grown, and Carol smiles back.

"Come on, sweet girl," she says crossing the room to pick up the child. "Let's let them sleep." Before she leaves, however, she puts Judith down long enough to throw a blanket over both men. When she retrieves the baby, Carol looks down at the two sleeping men and whispers, "You're the luckiest little girl in the world."


	5. The Most Unlikely Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to everyone who read, commented, left kudos, and/or supported last chapter. I really appreciate each comment I get, and you guys make this story even more fun to write. So, thank you.
> 
> So, thanks for reading and I still don't own 'em.

Maggie's mother once told her that she had been born during a rainstorm, and her father jokingly said that that was God's way of telling them she'd be a wild one. When she got a little older, Maggie used to sit on the roof of their house during storms, cigarette in one hand, bottle of jack in the other, with her head tilted back, relishing in the feel of the warm, summer rain falling down on her face. She knew if either of her parents found out she'd be grounded for a month, but at sixteen she had always been willing to take the risk, and being struck by lightning was rare; she didn't really have anything to worry about. Now, there's just too much to do, and she can't very well drop everything to go out and stand in the rain. Secretly, she misses the freedom to do so, but sacrifices must be made during the end of the world. Plus, rain and rotted corpses weren't exactly the best smell. 

The sky had been threatening a storm for the past few days, dark blue, nearly black clouds rolling in from the east, so when the first few raindrops began to fall no one had been surprised. Maggie stands by the prison entrance, squinting out into the horizon, worry eating away at her stomach. Daryl and Glenn had gone out on a run earlier today, both promising to be back before the rain started, but they were overdue an hour. She knows they probably decided to hole up somewhere, just until the storm passes, but it still doesn't help her nerves.

"They still not back?" Rick appears at her side, startling her, and she turns to offer him a half-smile. He's been pacing the halls for the better part of an hour, wringing his hands, periodically checking the battered pocket watch her father lent him. She's not sure who's more worried: her or Rick.

"Not yet," she answers turning back towards the entrance. "I'm sure they're fine."

"Yeah," he replies absentmindedly and a quick check over her shoulder tells Maggie that he's checking the pocket watch again. "Yeah, they're probably fine."

She sees the flash of a headlight just as a crack of thunder echoes across the sky. She nudges Rick, nodding towards the approaching motorcycle, and the two rush outside. The rain plasters Maggie's hair to her head within seconds, her clothes clinging to her slim frame, but she doesn't care. The only thing that matters is Glenn and Daryl are okay. Together, she and Rick get the gate open long enough to allow the two men access to the prison. Once the doors are shut, the duo follow Daryl's motorcycle up towards the entrance.

"Where's the truck?" Rick asks over the rain.

"Damn thing ran outta gas," Daryl answers waiting for Glenn to get off the bike before doing the same. "Gonna go get it after this storm." Rick nods, ushering everyone into the prison, closing the door on a flash of white, hot lightning illuminating the sky. Carol meets them in the entryway, carrying old, musty smelling towels, handing them out to each person.

"You okay?" Maggie asks scrubbing at Glenn's head with her towel, ignoring the fact that she's dripping all over the floor.

"It could have been worse," Glenn replies wrapping his towel around her shoulders. She knows he's right; he and Daryl could have been cornered by walkers. They could have wiped out, The Governor could have grabbed them again, any number of things could have happened. They really were lucky it had only been a storm.

"I know," she whispers leaning forward and resting her forehead against his. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too." He kisses the side of her head, pressing his nose into her hair, and for a while they stand there, not saying a word, just soaking up each others' presences. When they finally break apart, the entryway is empty, the others having ventured back into the prison, and both of them are shivering.

* * *

 

After a quick change of clothes, Maggie heads towards the mess hall to make some tea. It won't be as hot as she wants, but it'll still help her warm up just a little. She turns the corner, stopping when she spots a lone figure watching something on the stairs. She creeps closer, coming to stand next to Michonne, spotting Rick and Daryl pressed against each other, their breathing even and eyes closed, clearly asleep, and she whispers, "Have they been there long?"

"Not really," Michonne answers without looking away.

"Can't be comfortable, sleeping right there."

"Probably not." Michonne nods her head towards the cafeteria and Maggie follows the other woman, both moving slowly so as to not wake the two men. Once they're out of earshot, Maggie turns to Michonne and asks, "You ever think there's something going on between Rick and Daryl?"

"It's not our business one way or the other," Michonne answers crossing the room, stopping short of the electric tea kettle.

"I know." Maggie shrugs, burying her hands in her pockets. "I wouldn't have a problem with it if there were. They're two, grown, consenting adults. They're allowed happiness when it comes their way. We all are." Michonne offers Maggie a small smile over her shoulder before returning her attention to the kettle.

It's not the first time one of the group found Rick and Daryl asleep together. Glenn told her about the time he found them on an old couch and Carol mentioned something about them sleeping in Judith's cell, but no one has ever said anything to them. As much as it seems like there could be something between them, Michonne is right; it's not anyone's business  _but_  Daryl and Rick's.

Maggie accepts the cup Michonne offers her, muttering, "Thanks." The other woman shrugs, taking a seat across from the younger woman, and wraps her hands around her own mug of tea.

For a while they sit in silence, drinking their lukewarm beverages, but finally Michonne says, "My mother once told me that you find love in the most unlikely places, but it's when you're not looking for it when you know it's the most genuine." She nods towards the stairwell, towards Daryl and Rick, and adds, "Whether it's romantic or platonic, that's love. What you and Glenn share is love. What this entire group shares..." she let her words trail off, but Maggie understands what she meant, and she offers the older woman a smile.

"I'm glad you're part of our group," Maggie states getting to her feet. "Good night, Michonne." She walks away before Michonne can respond, silently creeping past the two sleeping men, and heads back towards hers and Glenn's cell. She has the overwhelming need to wrap her arms around Glenn and never let him go.


	6. The Enigma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. I wanna thank everyone who commented, kudo'd, read, and/or supported this story. It got pretty fluffy in some places, angsty in others, and I'm just glad y'all came along for the ride.
> 
> So, thanks for reading, I don't own 'em, and I'll catch ya in the next story.
> 
> Bye!!

Rick met Lori the second day of his junior year. She'd been new, her family moving from Macon, and the moment she walked into his English class he knew they were going to get married. When he told Shane, the other boy had called him stupid, told him he couldn't know, with one look, that he was going to marry someone, but Rick ignored him. He knew what he felt, knew with everything he had that he and Lori were going to be together forever, and sure enough they did end up married right out of high school. Of course, if he knew then about the train wreck their marriage would become, Rick's doesn't know if he would have still asked Lori to be his wife.

He's pretty sure she hadn't been sleeping with Shane  _before_ he had gotten shot, but he can't be one-hundred percent certain. He'd never actually gotten around to asking Lori about those months he had been in a coma, and the month before she died they weren't exactly talking much. But in spite of their problems, he did love his wife and Lori's death nearly destroyed him, made him retreat into himself in ways even he had not been aware he was capable of, but his kids helped him pull through; his kids and a certain hunter.

Rick never had an actual brother. His mother and father used to talk about having more kids, but they had had a hard time conceiving Rick, so eventually they just gave up on the idea. Shane had been the closest thing to a brother he'd ever had, but even back then Rick still wished he had someone else; someone constant and dependable. Shane had been there, had always been there, but sometimes it felt like he was waiting for the right opportunity to retreat. It just took twenty years, an outbreak, and a mental breakdown to give Shane the push he needed to do what he had been planning to do all along (minus killing Rick; the ex-lawman is fairly certain that had been a new addition to Shane's plan).

With Daryl, however, it feels like everything between them fits. Even in the beginning, when they were barely on friendly terms, they seem to click. Two sides of the same coin, constantly around each other, learning to trust each other, saving each others' asses without thinking about their own safety. They developed a damn near unbreakable bond, became closer than brothers, reached a level that Rick and Shane hadn't in the twenty-five years they'd been friends. It's intense, what he and Daryl share, something he never thought he'd have, and he'd be hard pressed to find another person  _like_ Daryl Dixon.

Dary returns to the prison a little after midnight. Rick, who had taken watch that night, greets the hunter at the gate. He tries not to show how worried he had been, the last thing he wants it to lose another person he cares for, but he can't quite mask it when he notices Daryl won't look him in the eyes.

"What happened?" Rick asked in a hushed voice, gently gripping Daryl's shoulder. "Where's Merle?"

The archer clears his throat, looking down at his boots, and mutters, "He, uh, he..." he sniffs, squeezing his eyes shut, and shakes his head.

"Oh." Rick wants nothing more than to pull this man-this stubbornly brave man-into a hug. Everyone in their group has lost someone; they've been allowed to grieve, had sought out comfort from those around them, but Rick knows Daryl never would ask for help. Instead of burdening anyone with his problems, he'd rather deal with Merle's death on his own, and that hurt the ex-lawman more than anything else. Daryl shouldn't  _have_ to grieve on his own; he shouldn't  _have_ to bury everything; he shouldn't  _have_ to be strong for everyone. His brother, the last remaining link to his old life, is dead. Merle may have been a nasty son of a bitch, but he had been Daryl's brother; Daryl's blood. _  
_

"You wanna keep watch with me?" Rick asks after a beat, motioning towards the guard tower with his head. He knows Daryl won't accept comfort, but he can be there for his friend in other ways. From past experience, Rick knows it's not the best idea, being alone after a tragedy, and he'll be there for Daryl even if he can't actually  _be there_ for the archer.

At first, he actually thinks Daryl is going to decline his offer, but the hunter surprises the ex-cop by nodding. Together, they close the gate and then head back towards the guard tower. Rick lets Daryl have the lawnchair, taking a seat on the floor. He pulls his gun from its holster, setting it next to him, and pulls his legs up, resting his elbows on his knees.

They don't speak. Daryl doesn't breakdown and tell Rick what happened, and Rick doesn't ask, but the ex-lawman can tell this is exactly what the archer needs. So he offers his silent support, keeping his eyes on the gate, and hopes it'll be enough. Watch passes fairly quickly, Daryl dozing off in the lawnchair a few times, and finally, around five, Tyreese appears to relieve Rick.

Rick nudges Daryl awake, the hunter stirring and murmuring, "Merle?"

"No, it's Rick," the ex-cop says, helping the archer to his feet. "C'mon, let's go inside."

"He okay?" Tyreese asks giving Daryl a worried look.

"He'll be fine," Rick replies ushering the half asleep hunter from the tower.

Together, they make it back to Daryl's cell without anyone stopping them. Rick helps the archer sit down, itching to touch the side of his face but refraining. Instead, he stoops down and unlaces Daryl's boots. "Get some sleep, a'right?" Mutely, Daryl nods, kicking his boots off. He lies down, tossing an arm over his eyes, and Rick squeezes his shoulder briefly before turning to leave.

A hand grabs his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, and Rick glances over his shoulder to see Daryl looking up at him. He gives the man a questioning look, fighting the shiver that travels down his back at the feel of warm fingers touching his skin. "Don't leave." Rick hasn't taken many risks in his life, but he decides now's as good time as any to start.

He toes off his boots, leaving them next to the archer's, and carefully crawls over the other man, lying down next to Daryl. They maneuver around a little, trying to find the best position for the both of them, the cot not exactly big enough for two, grown men, but eventually Rick ends up on his back with Daryl's head on his chest. The archer's breath is hot against his neck, his fingers gripping his shirt a little too tightly, but the ex-lawman can't bring himself to move; he doesn't  _want_ to move. _  
_

Rick thinks it should be awkward, lying next to Daryl Dixon, but it's not. It's not any different from the number of times they accidentally fell asleep together, but this time neither one have to worry about the other immediately leaving the room once they wake up. This is a conscious decision they've both made, something they both clearly want, and who is Rick to stop whatever  _this_ is; who is he to deny happiness not only to himself but to Daryl?

"You okay?" Rick asks softly, lightly trailing a hand down the archer's back. Daryl doesn't answer, his eyes already closed, his breathing slow and even. Rick presses a feather soft kiss into the hunter's hair and closes his eyes. He knows a couple hours of sleep won't make everything magically better, hell a week's worth a sleep wouldn't be enough, but he also knows that Daryl will be okay in time, and he'll be there every step of the way. Whatever they are, whatever their bond means, it's enough to prove that they need each other. The world is a dark, dangerous place, and the last thing anyone wants to be is alone during all of this.

Rick falls asleep to a warm presence next to him, to soft breathing in his ear, and he can't say he hates it. Daryl Dixon has always been the one enigma in his life, the piece that never quite fit but also fit perfectly, and Rick wouldn't have it any other way.

**The End...**


End file.
